Breakfast times were nine until ten but they agreed to serve us at 08:30. It turned out to comprise only a small piece of apple flan and a few salted almonds with a choice of hot drink, so hardly worth waiting for.
We had to return a few kilometres past our entry point on the N234 to ride a short way along a minor road then turn off along a dirt road, a lovely tree lined thoroughfare along which saw only a few local cyclists. I rather stupidly reached for my back pocket handkerchief and lost control of my bike on the gravel, luckily sustaining only grazes, a bruise and some embedded gravel.
We reached a fast but lightly trafficked secondary road and soon turned off onto a more minor road, undulating but no steep gradients. We found a shady bench opposite a water fountain in Moncanvillo for our picnic. A few minutes later a small group of club cyclists paused to refill their bottles. A bar was situated opposite with umbrellas furled, there was little sign of activity in the village, only a mother and child with an older woman sitting on a bench under a tree.
We made good progress but the increasing temperature was a challenge. Great views all around as we traversed the sierra. At a junction, the sign pointing up a hill told us that San Leonardo was only seven kilometres away. From the top, a long downhill took care of four of them, and soon we rolled into the centre.
We checked into Manrique de Lara, a large well appointed hotel on the edge of the small town. The receptionist called out to a Daily Telegraph looking couple who entered the building that we were British too, they glanced over at two dusty cyclists, legs cut, bruised, excessively brown and liberally spotted with insect bites, and quickened their pace to the lift. The hotel had a restaurant but don’t serve dinner until 21:00 so rather than wait so long for a probably disappointing meal, we bought bread, hummus, salad vegetables and fruit from the supermarket and ate it in the room. Afterwards we had a drink in the bar and wrote our accounts of the day.